Says the Peeler, " I'll cut out this ' Fishball" To " Sewing-Machine" he 8'howed the cash; Upon her each night he used to call,

Which quickly settled poor Cooky's hash. One night he called, the maid to see, And found her squat on the Peeler's knee; And, what with affright there made him stand, She was playing away with his club in her hand. Big thing on the club.

My song, etc

Cried he, " For to live is now no use 1"—

He crept into the coffee-can through the spout; But, without ever cooking poor Cooky's goose,

He was only half boiled when the fire went out But, as he was resolved to die, He swallowed the shell of an oyster-pie, Then rammed it down with a loaf of bread— It stuck in his throat, and choked him dead! Big thing on the Cooky.

My song, etc.

"When "Sewing-Machine" the »iews did hear, For a pound of arsenic she went out;